A Change of The Past
by BoilingHeart
Summary: When Alfred pokes fun of Arthur and the American Revolution, Arthur is thrown into a fit of anger. Blinded with rage, Arthur goes back in time and changes the outcome of the war using his magic. But with the new outcome, Arthur finds that he had become a psychotic, merciless, power obsessed dictator who owns almost one third of the world at conflicts with two powerful empires.
1. Prologue

_What's done is done._

_What's said is said._

_Everything that has happened_

_Has led you to this moment._

_Now take the time to ask yourself:_

_If you could go back_

_and change the past,_

_would you do it?_

Prologue

"You sure talk big for a cry baby." Alfred said, interrupting my speech.

"Excuse me?" I said, turning to glare at the blonde.

Alfred chuckled. "You talk about how _everyone _is so immature, and how we are 'unwise'," He picked up a water bottle and took a long sip. "So superior you sound. Like... like a cat acting like a lion."

His statement had silenced the others, who now leaned foward in anticipation. Normally, I would try to avoid any building fights, but Alfred had hit a nerve, even with his choice of words.

"Just what are you trying to say?" I demanded, shifting my body to face him.

"I mean, you act like you could fight a war with any of us," He said, gesturing to the other three. I glanced at them briefly, and noticed that there was a fourth member that I hadn't seen before. "As if you could beat us."

I felt my eyebrow twitch at the comment and I took a deep breath. "I never once said any of that." said I.

"No," Alfred sighed, slumping down in his seat. "but sometimes, your body language can say so much more..."

"Quite an arrogant tone you have taken on." I said irratibly.

"Arrogant? Arrogant?!" Alfred shouted with a sudden intensity, jumping out of his seat. "_Please!_ If there is _anyone_ who is arrogant, it's you, Arthur!" he yelled, pointing a finger at me. He then burst into laughter. "You lost to a bunch of poorly equipped soldiers!"

Francis stifled a laugh, and I heard Yao mutter something under his breath. I took a few deep breaths in an attempt to calm myself.

"Sure, but we slew over fifty-thousand of them," said I, with a smug grin. "And then we burned your capital."

Alfred shot up quickly and suddenly that even Ivan was startled.

"Yeah, fifty thousand." he muttered, and I could see that it pained him to be reminded of the casualties. "It doesn't matter, 'cause you still lost. And if you would have won, there would have been no capital to burn." he shouted fiercly.

"You brought that upon yourself!"

"And I would do it again!" he yelled with such intensity that it echoed in the room while a mischevious smile played upon his lips.

"You are in no position to speak to me like this!" I shouted back in frustration, taking a stand from my seat. "Count yourself lucky! I had the heart to spare you that day! I showed you mercy!"

"You lost and cried like a bitch!" he argued, aproaching me with long strides until he was looking down upon me from his height and I looking up. "_You _couldn't let go of your 'little brother'. _You _didn't have the guts to strike back. _You _couldn't bear the fact that someone no longer wanted you around!" he shouted, jabbing his fingers at my chest everytime he said "you".

Something in me snapped. I felt so pissed off, so sad, so humiliated. I clenched my fists and tried once more to calm myself. I could feel the tension building in the room, and heard a few murmurs in the room. I began to hum "God Save the Queen" to distract myself.

"Wow Arthur, you look tense," Alfred said with a sudden softness in his voice. "You should probably go have some tea," he said with a gentle voice, placing his arm around my shoulders. "Oh wait, I dumped it all in the ocean!" He shouted. and was thrown into a fit of laughter.

"THAT DOES IT!" I shouted and pivoted on my foot and punched the blonde in the face, knocking his glasses on the floor. He was knocked back a bit, but came back in retaliation shoved me onto the table, still laughing uncontroallably. I grit my teeth as I felt my back hit the edges of the table. I bounced back up and charged at the man, launching my fists into his face repeatedly, and I saw blood began to draw from his nose. He made no effort to stop me though, and only continued to laugh. His laughter was pissing me off, and the harder he laughed, the harder I hit. His knees began to buckle, and I knew that this was his point of vulnerability. I was just about to launch my weight upon him when I felt a set of hands seize my torso.

I hadn't noticed before that everyone was yelling. I could feel the set of hands struggling to pry me away from Alfred. The hands had a familiar feel to them, and I realized that it was Francis. I jerked my elbows back, jabbing the edges of them into his stomach. When he released me, I launched back at Alfred, who now flinched as I rushed towards him. That's right you little bastard. Fear me. But my fist was caught by Yao, who had suddenly appeared before me. He twisted it in a painful way, then spun upon his foot and kicked me to the ground. Francis had attempted to catch me,but failed. I fell on my back, knocking the wind out of my, and my head came whizzing down onto the cold hard floor, making me feel an excrutiating amount of pain accompanied by dizzziness and double vision. I looked around, attempting to focus as the enemies of pain seized my body. I noticed Yao was tending to Alfred's swollen face. Suddenly, Francis appeared before me, kneeling down beside me. I saw his lips move, and heard the sound of his silky voice, but could not follow the words. I couldn't focus on anything, and the world seemed to spin around me for so long that I had begun to believe that it would never stop...

Once the spinning had ceased and the pain no longer lingered, I was finally able to focus. The traces of dizziness were finally departing, but only for a headache to replace it. All the yelling and commotion in the room wasn't helping either. Francis was yelling at Alfred for starting a fight while Yao yelled at my for losing my temper, cursing in Chinese. Meanwhile, Ivan sat back and watched the whole thing go down while Matthew attempted to calm everyone, but alas, no one could hear him through all the commotion. I left the room as soon as I could, a tear betraying my eye and escaping down the bottom of my cheek.

I drove home, nearly hitting a few cars on the way. I slammed the doors on the way in to my house, and with no real way to express my anger, began to destroy my flat.

I tore down pictures, including my own paintings. I threw my bookshelves, spilling countless novels of Charles Dickens and the works of Shakespear and so on. I threw dishes, books, couch cushions, and basically anything I could get my hands on. I shouted obscene words, thinking aloud, throwing a huge tantrum that I knew I would regret later. Thank goodness I live alone.

Alone.

Always alone.

But even when I had others, they left me.

They never liked me. They were just waiting for the oppurtunity to leave me.

Just like Alfred.

I collapsed onto the floor, unable to stop the tears that streamed from my eyes. I looked around at the mess I had made. Then I thought about the meeting, and how swollen Alfred's face had been. I began to feel guilty. I had hurt him.

But he had hurt me too.

And I would do it again.

Make him regret ever saying those things.

No, make him regret ever rebelling.

Yes, make him sorry he ever fought me.

I stood up and walked around the mess and down to the basement.

"I'll make you pay," I muttered, "I gave you a home. I fed you, I took care of you. I raised you for God's sake!"

I walked towards the empty space of which I had drawn a large circle I used for incripting magic.

"I'll make you pay," I rummaged through dusty old spell books. "You will get what you deserved that day."

I picked up a spell book specializing in time travel.

"I should have learned to never show you mercy!" I opened the book and read the specific skills and instructions to perform the spell.

"I won't make that mistake again." I took upon a knife and cut the edge of my finger, and began to use my blood to draw a star in the center of my magic circle.

"Mercy is for the weak!" I lit candles and placed them around the circle.

"You will learn the might of the British Empire!"

I stood in the center of the circle and read the spell aloud to complete the task.

_"Redde me profundum tempus__,_

_Ubi fata mutari potest._

_Redde me intueri nefas_

_Ad vitandum errorem quod eiusdem!"_

**- Translation -**

_"Take me back to the depths of time_

_Where I can change my fate._

_Take me back to fix a crime_

_To avoid that same mistake!"_

I performed this chant several times until the circle around me began to glow. Following the spell, I thought back of the time that I wished to revisit. The memories of that day where we faced off washed over me, and I grit my teeth and chanted:

_"Sucipe me ad tempus_

_Ibi erit_

_Stella vexillum ultra picti."_

**- Translation -**

_"Take me back to a time_

_Where there will be_

_Star spangled banner no more."_

The glow from the circle began to portray all the events that happened in that time period with the light it was portraying, as if it were a hologram. They spun around me slowly, and the moment I saw the light portraying Alfred and I face to face, I reached out for it, grasping it as if it were a solid. When I clenched my fist around the light, the 'hologram' stopped spinnning.

I took one deep breath and began to cast the spell.

_"Stella vexillum ultra picti!"_

The spell was casted with no hesitation.

I found myself in a warp of time, spinning somewhat. Past events washed over me until I found myself reliving that moment which I stood before Alfred and his army, my gun in hand.

He had his own gun pointed towards me, read to fire. He had that fiery intent look in his eye, ready to show no mercy.

Just as I was.

"All I want is my freedom!" Those words had been shouted at me once more. Those heartbreaking words. They made me feel sad and regret ful for a moment.

But only for a moment.

"I won't allow it!" I yelled, but this time I meant it. I refused to make that mistake again.

I will give him what he deserves.

I launched at him, but instead of scraping his gun out of his hands, I scraped the bayonet of my gun across his face.

Both of our armies charged at each other. Alfred staggered back, his left hand on his face and the other on his gun. He removed his bloody hand from his face to glare at me, revealing the cut I had made, starting the bottom right to the top left of his face, destroying the eye. The blood flowed from the cut, flesh dangling from his cheeks. Such a horrid, bloody sight it was, yet I had a feeling of... victory. Accomplishment.

I took upon my gun once more, adrenaline taking over. As I was about to make another move for attack, Alfred launched his weapon across my face, making a vertical cut across the right side of my face.

The pain was sharp, and the ends of the bayonet had cut my eye as well. The cut he made was no where near as deep as I had made his, but it was enough to draw blood. I bit my lip and suppressed the urge to shout in pain. Taking a steady hold of my gun once more, I fired at his shoulder. He shrieked and fell back, and, taking a chance on his vulnerability, launched myself upon him with all my force and weight. Then, taking hold of my weapon, slid the bayonet across his arm. Then I knocked his weapon from his hands, and in retaliation, he launched his fist upon his wound, painting his hand red with my blood.

He then took a hold of my hair, digging his fingernails onto my scalp, and flipped me suddenly so that he was on top of me. He placed his knees upon my chest and I stared at his barely recognizable face. It was damaged beyond recognition, and the blood dripped from his face and loose flesh to my own. I shifted my gaze to his injured eye - whatever was left of it. Not a hint of the blue or white of his eye. He began to unleash a volley of punches upon my face, focusing on the right. Each blow was painful, and I winced as they came, unable to block them. Despite his injuries, he was still quite powerful. It seemed as though no matter what I do, I would still lose this war.

No, _I_ am powerful.

I am Great Britain.

Great for a reason.

And I will show him that reason.

I won't be defeated. Not again.

I raised my weapon, only for it to be knocked out of my hands. I then quickly raised my hand and dug my fingers into what used to be his eye. My fingers slid in easily, and I felt the gooey substance from inside slide across my skin, and I dug in with my fingernails, staining my hands with a deep red. He shrieked, and was about to land another blow when I caught his fist with my free hand and twisted it the same way Yao had done to me in the meeting. Satisfied with the shout of pain, I lifted myself and threw Alfred off of me. I staggered to my feet, and charged towards the bloody man, kicking him as hard as I could possibly manage, He winced and collapsed, coughing out blood.

I bent over and flipped him so that he was lying on his back. He reached up in an attempt to make another attack. I whipped his hands away and seized him by the throat, picking him up and then slamming him to the ground. Blood spattered out from his mouth, and I kept my hands firnly gripped on his throat. His hands now grasped my own as he struggled weakly to pry my hands away.

Smug with my victory, I decided to seal the deal. I leaned in close, seeing the details of his swollen blood-stained face. "You are _mine._ I won't allow you to change that." I declared, wearing a smug grin.

I found that I still don't have what it takes to kill him. I took one moment to look around the battlefield and saw all the bloodshed. But it was clear who the winner was.

We had won this battle.

And we will win this war.

I released him and commanded my army for the next task. I had one soldier provide chains for me, which I used to bound Alfred to once recieved.

"From now on, there will be troops patrolling your streets daily. All weapons will be confiscated, and none of your citizens will _ever _lay a hand, nor an eye, on a weapon again. All residents' homes will be checked daily. Your colonies will be under strict rules, and closely watched for the rest of your life. _Is that understood?_" In response, Alfred spat at my face.

Anger overflowed, and I punched him in the face with as much force I could manage. I flipped him over, slamming on to the ground. I then placed my knee on to his back, placing all my weight there. He began coughing and panting, shifting constantly, trying to find a way to relieve the pain, at least temporarily.

I leaned in once more. "If you cannot follow these rules, _I will kill you on the spot!_" I put more weight on his back, and he winced, biting back a scream. "And I will make it slow and painful. _Is that understood?_" I flipped him so that he was facing me. There was hatred written all over his face. Hesitantly, he nodded, refusing to look at me. That was fine by me.

I have _won._

I am _feared._

I am _powerful._

Later that same day, we found the men responsible for the spark of the revolution and all those who were a part of it. George Washington, Benjamin Franklin and so on were hanged in public. I still held full control of the thirteen colonies.

And I was _not_ going to lose him.

Victory had never tasted so sweet...

I awoke to a sound in my room. I looked around, squinting as the bright light blinded me. My head hurt, and I realized that it was all a dream. I looked up and saw the back of Alfred's head. What was he doing in my house?

I recalled the events of the meeting, and guilt washed over me for what I had done to him. I sat up.

"Alfred, I want to apolo-" I stopped midsentence at the sight of Alfred turning to face me. I gazed at the long scar that stretched diagonally across his face and wore an eyepatch as well. I had also realized that my eyesight was impaired, for I was blind on my right eye. Alfred bowed dwon to me.

"Lord Arthur, your food is ready." he said in a monotone voice, with a hint of hatred.

I looked up at the calendar to my left. It was May 7, 2015. I realized that everything really did happen.

That was _no_ dream.

* * *

Chapter 1 Coming Soon!


	2. The British Empire

Just because you regret something,

Deosn't mean it will change.

Just because you are sad,

Doesn't mean it'll stop hurting.

Don't linger in the past.

Don't think about changing it.

Instead, focus on the present,

Move on.

**Chapter 1 - The British Empire**

"I... er, um..." Arthur stuttered, unable to find words. "What happened?"

"While'st trying to discuss plans to keep the Holy Roman Empire at bay, we were attacked. You were knocked unconcious, so I brought you back." Alfred explained as he poured some tea. Arthur noticed that he had a different accent, presumably a British with a hint of a Southern American accent.

"W-Wait, _Holy Roman Empire?_ B-But, I thought it fell in 1806..." Arthur said, confused.

Of course not. What are you, retarded?

Alfred thought. He took a deep breath.

"No, you must be mistaken, my lord. The year 1806 is the year you single-handedly took down the country of France and seized the land just above my colonies."

"I... what?" Arthur sat up and rubbed his face. "You mean, France... doesn't exist...?"

Did you not hear what I said you self-centered bastard?

Alfred thought. He nodded. "Is there anything else you need clarification on my lord?" _Or have you gone full retard?_ Alfred began to load some food and tea on a tray and set it on Arthur's bed for him to eat.

Arthur sat there in shock. _Could changing the outcome of the revolution have changed so much? And if the Holy Roman Empire was still in existence, who else was?_

All these thoughts were running through Arthur's head and he began to feel dizzy.

Great. What's he going topsy-turvy over? I'd might as well just leave this retard to fend for himself. But no, he has far too many people on his side.

Alfred thought, and began to look for a way to help out.

"Maybe you should lay down and rest your head," Alfred suggested.

Arthur followed his instructions and waited for the spinning world around him to settle.

Arthur remembered that every country personification has a file with the list and portraits of all the countries along with a summary of their history and the empire they belong to, if they had one. But of course, those existed in the time Arthur was familiar with.

When he had lost.

Arthur knew that this is what he needed at the moment. It should clear his confusion, hopefully.

"Alfred, are we in possession of WW File 062?" Alfred asked, stating his file number by memory.

Alfred raised an eyebrow at his choice of words. Arthur never used the word 'we' unless he was referring world wide. It was always 'me' or 'I'. He dismissed it quickly and replied "Yes. Would you like me to retrieve it for you, my lord?"

Every time Alfred said those last two words, Arthur felt a pang of guilt and pain. He hated hearing those words coming from Alfred.

"Yes please, if you will." Arthur said quietly.

When Alfred left the room, Arthur sat up and stared at the tray of food. It had what he assumed to be turkey, with vegetables and other foods he had never seen before, as if it had come form a different culture. On the side was something that looked like cheesecake and tea. Arthur had just picked up the elegant silverware and began to carve into the turkey when Alfred walked in with three large manila folders, two smaller ones and one thick green folder Arthur knew to be the 'deceased' countries.

With a quick bow, Alfred handed the folders over. Arthur held the files, and noticed the slight hum it gave off. The files were imbued with magic - Romanian magic.

The three large folders were prominent looking, and Arthur held the one titled 'British Empire'. When he opened it, he saw a picture of himself; shaggy blonde hair spilling over his face, a long nasty scar across his right eye. The lime green in his eyes were preserved, and he retained a presumptuous look with a horrible smirk marked upon his pearly face that Arthur couldn't bear to look at. Beneath his portrait was his name, and beneath that were two columns. The left column had a list of wars, the most recent ones on top. The right column had a list of everyone he owned.

When he turned the page, he saw Matthew Williams listed as the Northern Colonies. There were several pictures of him, and Arthur couldn't seem to remove his eyes off the one with Matthew's full body photo. Almost full. He was missing one thing: his right arm.

The rest of his body was heavily scarred, marked with a history of cuts, gashes, whippings and burns. He wore khaki shorts and a black tank top, revealing most of his skin. He seemed so much... smaller. Weaker.

Arthur turned the page back to the first page. The magic inscripted on the file would allow him to access what they called 'The Memory'.

"Would you like me to leave the room, my lord?" Alfred asked. "You may want some privacy if you will be accessing the file."

Arthur knew that he had to access the memory, and if it were the same as he remembered, the magic would allow him to relive all the historical events from a selected period of time. Arthur nodded, and Alfred bowed slowly and left.

Arthur looked back down at the paper and saw the long list of wars. He found the one that came right after the Revolutionary War. It was titled, 'French-Anglo War of 1806'. Arthur took a deep breath and slid his finger across the letters, feeling the vibration of the inscripted magic. Leaving his fingers there, he closed his eyes and felt the magic enter his mind.

When he opened his eyes again, he saw a flash of red in the snow. He looked around and saw British soldiers in the familiar red uniform attacking the French. Despite the change of the outcome of the revolution, the Napoleonic Wars still existed.

But it was still slightly different.

Arthur looked around the blood-stained battlefield. He fought hard, and watched as the bodies fell limp, one by one.

Arthur turned his head back to another sound, and saw Francis running through the battlefield, coated with blood. He gave a battle cry as he rushed towards his opponent, sword in hand.

Arthur held his sword up, ready to block Francis' attack. The loud clatter of metal created by the two colliding swords echoed, as the soldiers continued to fall. Arthur noticed that Francis was weak, and did not have the playful look in his eyes that he remembered. Francis had a serious and desperate look, and it seemed as though his gentle looks had completely disappeared. Francis looked like a different person, and it seemed unnatural.

The two of them fought, swords clashing back and forth in a countless parry. The only thing that bothered Arthur as he re-experienced this moment was the evil, psychotic look marked upon his own face. Arthur laughed as he fought, and Francis, weak and wounded from previous battles, did everything he could to defend himself and attempt to land a few blows.

"Why do you even bother?" Arthur cackled as he fought. "He's just going to leave you when he's stronger than you! I'll be doing you a favour!"

"It is much more complicated than that!" Francis yelled. "He and I are much closer than you and Alfred ever were! Mathew would never leave me!" He lunged forward with his sword, but only for it to be blocked. It was quite difficult for the experienced swordsman to land any blows.

"You doth not have the power nor strength of keeping that scrawny boy! You can barely keep yourself alive!" Arthur shouted, and kicked him away. Francis was knocked back, leaving himself exposed. Arthur took advantage of his vulnerability, and lunged forward, his sword stabbing through Francis' collarbone.

The crunching sound of bone was loud in Francis' ears, and he could feel the blade as it invaded his flesh and muscle. The blood began to stream from the wound, leaving the spot feeling warm as he shrieked, forcing himself to remain standing.

"Men! Chains, now!" Arthur commanded. Two British soldiers appeared from behind Francis and chained his hands together. Arthur then took a hold of the chains in his right hand and held his sword firmly in the other.

Francis, unable to remain standing, collapsed to the ground. He looked up at Arthur slowly with sad eyes and wore a weak smile.

"You've changed so much. I never thought you would." Blood began to stream from his mouth. "I... I miss the old you, and I will continue to miss you. How... How I wish I could have said goodbye before it was too late." Tears began to well up in his eyes.

Arthur was beginning to grow impatient. He held his sword in a ready-to-strike position to prepare for the final blow.

"Oh, but you'll be so much better off. That's it. You won." He let out a hacking cough, staining the snow red with blood. "I never thought it would end this way mon ami. But... at least I can die knowing one of us made it out okay. You've come a long way, and if taking me down helps you, and it makes you _that_ much happier, then _fine by me. _I was doomed at the start of this war, and I'd rather it be death at your hand."

Arthur, as obsessed with power as he was, was beginning to feel guilty. But he still knew what he had to do, and now, it was even wished by Francis. Arthur would give him a swift death, swift and as painless as possible.

"No more blabbering you fool! I have no pity for you!" But the words that tumbled from Arthur's mouth were lies. He lifted the sword, now in perfect position for execution. Francis, still suffering from his wound, prepared himself for death. He only wished he knew what would become of Matthew.

"NO!" A voice called out. Francis recognized the voice quickly and Arthur only pretended not to hear it.

The young Matthew ran towards the two with his right arm extended. He ran between them, his right arm separating the two. Matthew knew that Arthur wouldn't hurt him since he was the oh-so precious land that they fought for. Arthur would stop, and both Matthew and Francis would live.

But he knew wrong.

Arthur did not hold back. He brought the sword down, cutting through the flesh, muscle then bone of Matthew's arm, spraying all three of them with his blood. The sword had gone all the way through, leaving the severed arm to fall on the snow, dripping with blood.

Matthew shrieked in pain. He had never felt so much pain in his entire life, and stared wide eyed at his severed arm. He began to feel nauseous. He was shocked at the outcome of Arthur's merciless action, sad that he wouldn't be able to save Francis, and fearful for what would happen next.

Francis shouted, and forced himself to a standing position, and struggled to free his hands from the chains. He staggered, and coughed out blood.

"HOW COULD YOU?!" Francis shouted. Tears streamed from his eyes and he wore an unrecognizable, despairing look. Arthur merely laughed and raised his sword .

Francis, blinded with rage and anguish, rushed towards Arthur, staggering on the way. "I'll-" Arthur whipped the sword in one swift motion, severing the head from his body. The blood spattered across Arthur and Matthew, mixing Matthew's and the French man's blood together as it created a pool of blood in the snow.

Matthew screamed, tears flowing down from his cheeks. He collapsed to the ground and hung his head low, sobbing. The sound of the British soldiers cheering for their victory was deafening. The rest of the French soldiers retreated.

Arthur, now satisfied with victory, seized Matthew by the hair, forcing him to stand. Matthew yelped in pain and grasped whatever was left of his bloody arm.

"You are _mine._ Don't you _ever _forget that!" Arthur declared.

Arthur returned back to consciousness, back in his room, the file in hand. He brushed the tears back from his face, and looked at the many other wars listed. He couldn't bear the fact that he had gone so far for power, so far behind morality. He didn't want to read, or experience any more. One was enough.

He was about to close the folder when he saw a war where World War II would have been. It was titled, "The HRE Wars", and was in bold letters. This meant that it was a big war, and it lasted quite a while as well, from 1919 to 1952. His finger wandered over to the bold print, and he stopped himself. He took a deep breath and closed the folder and set it aside. He picked up the tray of cold food and set it down on the floor, and took all the folders and placed them on the nightstand. He tucked himself in, hoping to find sleep.

Oh, but how curious he was! The shadows of slumber merely teased him, drifting in and out but not giving him the full satisfaction he required. His mind became focused on his burning curiosity, his hunger for knowledge. At last, he gave up his wish for sleep and picked up a folder from the nightstand blindly. He raised the randomly selected folder to eye level and read "Holy Roman Empire" on the front. Opening it, he saw a grown man: blonde, blue eyes with his hair slicked back. He wore a slightly modified version of his black uniform and held his hat in his hands. He wore a serious look, and at first glance, he looked like Ludwig.

Arthur looked beneath the picture.

"Well, it's no wonder he looks a lot like him. It is him." Arthur said as he read the name Ludwig Beildshmidt. "But, if he's the Holy Roman Empire, then who's Germany?"

His eyes wandered to the list of countries. The empire had expanded greatly. It owned all the countries that Arthur remembered from his time with the exception of France, Liechtenstein, Switzerland, Poland and Monaco, and the addition of Spain and all of those who were once part of the Spanish Empire. No Germany.

He looked at the list of wars. Many were in bold, some italicized, and most of them were conflicts with something called the "Indivisible Strength".

"HRE Wars" were in bold, and seemed the most prominent, for it stood out more than the others. Curiosity urged him to see, and he placed his finger over the letters and felt the magic buzz. He closed his eyes as the magic entered him once more.

When he opened his eyes, he was watching a peaceful day in Italy, 1919. There were people singing, children playing, animals running about, but only for the scene to be shattered by the intruding British jets above and the bombs that fell in the city.


End file.
